Ryan-and-Espo
by gottabefree
Summary: You didn't find one without the other. Until you did. Set after season four finale
1. Chapter 1: Just Ryan

Guys at the precinct used to refer to them as Ryan-and-Esposito. Sometimes it was Ryan-and-Espo. Maybe the names were swapped around, putting Esposito first. By a few people, it was Kev-and-Javi. But they were always mentioned together, the names running into one to form one long word that ran off of people's tongues without them even thinking. Like they were one body. You didn't find one without the other.

It didn't matter what it was referring to. The partners spent all day together and then most of the evening, playing Madden and drinking beers together as if it was the first time instead of the millionth. If you invited one to watch a football match between the cops and the firefighters, you invited the other automatically.

_Ryan-and-Espo. Espo-and-Ryan. _

That's how it was and that's how he thought it always would be. Inseparable.

But now, Ryan heard people refer to him differently as people began to say the familiar one long name that he and his partner went by and stop awkwardly halfway through, trailing off and looking away apologetically as if they could see the sharp pain that stabbed in his chest at the reminder of what he'd ruined.

_Ryan-an..._

He hadn't been invited to anything since Castle had left and Beckett had resigned and Espo had stormed out, blanking him completely. People thought he'd gone behind his partner's back when all he'd been trying to do was have his back.

He hadn't heard from any of them. He'd called Espo a hundred times, texted him, begged for forgiveness and tried to explain. Hell, he'd even gone over one time, in one of his darker moments, when his eyes were glazed and his breath smelt sharply of alcohol and knocked on the door, banging and yelling through the heavy rain for his partner. Crying as his head fell against the door as the realization of what he'd lost spread through him. He'd fallen asleep there, right outside Esposito's door. Lay there all night, shivering in the rain. Rain plastering his hair over his face, dripping water into his eyes and ruining his suit completely.

The door hadn't opened once.

He'd left in the morning, at seven. He knew Esposito knew he was there because otherwise he would've gone out for his morning run. That proved that Ryan-and-Esposito was a thing of the past.

_Ryan._

Eventually, people stopped slipping up and adding extra syllables to his name. It felt strange to be just one man again, not part of a pair. Too short and sudden, ending just as it began. Before, it had been the name Gates would bark if he was in trouble.

He'd still get the awkward smiles, the slightly suspicious glances and a sympathetic pat on the back, but people were accepting his new position as Homicide's traitor, the one who got left behind. People who used to be his friends didn't quite acknowledge him as their friend. He still solved murders, a one man team driven by coffee and insomnia, keeping one foot in the door to being accepted, but no one was willing to be the one to throw back the door and welcome him back, dragging him away from the guilt and regret that filled the shadows.

Now he was Ryan.

Just Ryan.

And it was the loneliest thing on the planet.


	2. Chapter 2: Ryan and Espo

**A/N: I don't think the show did them justice. I don't think Ryan and Esposito could've just forgotten the past few months and returned to their previous close friendship just like that with no damage at all. That, and the fact that I do love me some Ryan-angst. So I wrote this. Hope you like :)**

* * *

They were supposedly Ryan-and-Espo again.

He'd taken a punch for Espo, and that had made something click in his partner's head. They'd gone out to drinks and the next thing you know, they were once again joking and laughing and slapping each other on the back for a job well done.

But it wasn't real. It didn't feel natural, like it had before. Ryan-and-Espo felt like a forced nickname, not something that was instinctively said. An attempt to throw the two men closer to repair their damaged friendship. Or a stage name, like this whole illusion of partners and bros was an act that they played to keep up appearances that they were fine, they were close, they were Ryan-and-Espo.

But the act wasn't perfect; it was the work of hurried amateurs whose debut had been thrown too early into their careers. Cracks were visible if the interactions between the partners were studied closely. And in an office full of detectives, it was easy to see.

There was always several inches of space between them, a visible barrier of air containing nitrogen, oxygen and unspoken betrayals. The handshakes and fist bumps and random gestures with meanings only they would know had all but been abandoned.

There were times when Ryan would side with Castle and Esposito would side with Beckett, forming a rift that previously could be jumped with the help of a friend, but was now impossible to cross when attempted alone.

There were silences in the car, hidden by the radio, cloaked in the excuses of tiredness and lack of caffeine. But both knew they existed and neither knew of a way to solve it, to shove through the cushioning of awkwardness and into their old familiar realm of banter where conversations were wild and loud and real.

Jokes were thrown but there were hidden barbs under them. Loaded questions about trust and loyalty tossed between them during early morning cases that had to be handled very delicately. Plans were cautiously made and frequently abandoned while the Xbox controllers gathered dust. Topics were avoided and side-stepped, forcing the conversations to wriggle through smaller holes as the events with Maddox hung heavy in the air.

How could six years of being partners, of having each other's backs every day and playing Madden on Saturdays and Wednesdays be destroyed in one day? And then subsequently fixed in one punch?

It shouldn't be. It couldn't be.

Esposito might think everything was okay, that because he'd forgiven Ryan they could become Ryan-and-Espo again, but it wasn't that easy. Ryan knew Esposito was willing to forgive him, but what he wanted was his partner to understand why he'd done it. He'd saved Beckett's life and quite possible Javi's. He'd done what he'd needed to have his partner's back and keep those damn wheels on, only to have Esposito remove the key from the ignition and hang the key on a hook, leaving dust to gather.

They weren't the Ryan-and-Espo of before. Now they were Ryan and Espo. And Ryan couldn't decide what was worse: the months when Esposito ignored him completely and totally or now, where they both acted like Ryan-and-Espo while dancing around the issues they clearly both had with one another, circling the hole but never getting close enough to fall down into the trap of discussing the events.

And now, as Ryan sat at his desk tapping a pencil on his computer to disrupt one of the frequent silences, only meters from his partner and yet miles from him, he decided this was worse.

Because during those bleak months, he'd always expected Esposito would eventually come around and the world would realign itself with the return of Ryan-and-Espo. He'd been in denial that it was all over between them, that his actions had saved and still ruined everything. He'd always held a small crusade of hope that Espo would one day understand and stop ignoring him.

But that didn't happen and instead they were faking their way through every day. This act was tiring and painful; he was constantly faced with what he'd lost. As close and yet so far as a mourner visiting a loved one's grave.

But this was so much worse because he had his partner back but he didn't have his partner's trust back, and now he realized he'd never get it back. He'd earned a fraction back by taking the punch for him, but it was nothing compared to what he had before. This act was worse because he now had no hope that his partner would come around or that Ryan-and-Espo would ever be the name they both automatically responded to.

He was still Ryan.

Just Ryan.

And that was never going to change.


End file.
